


Uncontrolled Chaos

by liketolaugh



Series: Sharing Problems [3]
Category: D.Gray-man, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: AU, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Ishval, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allen was three years old when Mana adopted him. When the war turned into a full-out genocide, he was nine, and he was scared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncontrolled Chaos

Mana hunched over Allen, arms protectively around the redheaded boy, crouched in a corner of the stone house, which was half-wrecked and barely stable. The man's scarlet eyes, wary and worried, peered through the broken door to watch the mostly-abandoned street, populated only by a few stray Ishvalans, all moving quickly and hastily, getting whatever business that needed doing done as fast as possible.

Allen huddled close to Mana, his own silver eyes – so out of place in Ishval – clenched shut as he suppressed a terrified whimper.

Far away, explosions boomed, cracking through the air, and screams echoed over the town.

"Mana," Allen whispered, voice high and frightened.

"Sh, Allen," Mana soothed, not taking his eyes off the street.

Close by – too close – an ominous thump sounded. The force of whatever-it-was shook the building, the wall cracking ominously, and Mana cursed, arms tightening briefly around Allen before he let go, standing up. Allen followed instantly, one hand clinging to Mana's desperately as the man ushered Allen out onto the street in search of another, safer house.

They ran – a mad dash for cover, somewhere, anywhere that wasn't in plain sight. Mana's feet – so sure when he did his tricks, stable and firm – pounded on the concrete half a step in front of Allen's, which moved twice as fast in his attempt to keep up.

Mana tugged lightly on Allen's hand, directing both of them around a corner.

They didn't make it five steps down the new road before they had to stumble to a halt, blocked by the monstrous figure before them.

A man with blond hair and blue eyes, towering and hugely muscular, stood in front of them, clearly startled. Allen's silver eyes met his sapphire, horror and panic against shock, and Allen couldn't move, he was so afraid. The man didn't, either – too surprised, Allen supposed, because that wasn't uncertainty in his eyes. It  _wasn't._

Then Mana tugged on Allen's hand, frantic, and Allen obediently whirled as both of them ran back the way they came.

They knew what the Strong Arm alchemist meant, and sure enough, the sound of two large fists hitting the ground sounded, and then a rumble as a wall twice as tall as the man behind them sprang from the ground.

Mana's hand tightened over Allen's.

People couldn't escape the houses fast enough; formerly abandoned, the street was now writhing with people, panic and dismay, pushing and shoving and fear. Allen cried out as one hard shove nearly separated him from Mana, but the man's strong grip kept his right hand firmly in his.

"I love you, Allen," Mana said to Allen, looking back to meet Allen's silver eyes with his own crimson.

Allen's eyes widened and filled with tears. "I love you too, Mana," he said desperately.

Mana smiled, faintly. Of course he did. Mana could always smile, especially when Allen needed it. Allen tried to smile back.

"Never stop," Mana told him, pulling him closer as they kept running, trying not to get pushed back by the terrified, desperate crowd. "Always keep walking."

Allen's eyes widened and filled with frightened uncertainty. "Mana?"

The crowd suddenly stopped, and more screams ripped through the air. Allen only caught a glimpse of black hair over a blue uniform, one gloved hand rising into the air, before he was flying through the window of one of the more intact houses, hitting the wall too hard.

Heat and light filled the world, and Allen heard a scream from a long way away before it all vanished.

_"Mana!"_

 

* * *

Allen whimpered as the world slowly filled in around him – the hard ground under his side, stone wall against his back, and unforgiving pain, all over.

His eyes cracked open and he whimpered again.

He hurt. Every movement sparked a new fire, and tears slipped from his eyes as he bit his lip. His mouth was dry and he felt achy underneath the burn.

Burn.

His eyes popped open. "Mana!"

Ignoring the pain it caused him, Allen struggled to stand and stumbled desperately for the door, burned away from the stone frame. He caught himself as he tripped and fell, clinging to the doorframe, and his breath left him as grey eyes took in the scene on the now-dark street.

Ashes. All that was on the street was ashes.

His head spun and bile rose to his throat, and he fell to his hands and knees and threw up, tears mixing with food he hadn't eaten as he cried and threw up and cried.

"Mana!  _Mana!"_

Allen screamed.

"Is something wrong, little one?"

 

* * *

Cross strode quickly through the street, eyes dark.

This was Mustang's work, alright. The man never failed to be thorough in getting rid of the bodies just as well as the lives.

Cross thought that it was hopelessly sentimental.

But of course, Cross wasn't here to kill anyone, at least not this time. No, the Vacuum Alchemist was going to collect an accommodator. What one was doing here, Cross couldn't imagine. Still, his Innocence never lied, and there had been an akuma here. And now there wasn't.

Cross found his accommodator lying in ashes, staring straight ahead with one too-wide silver eye, blood streaming down his face and badly burned all over, the green glow of Innocence lingering around the shoulder of his left arm, which had swollen into a huge, bone-white claw, barely even breathing.

A long, rattling sigh left Cross' throat, brow furrowing in irritation, and he started to move in front of the kid.

The boy's eyes didn't even focus, but he had clearly noticed Cross' blue military uniform, and, more out of instinct than anything, the boy let out a soft, scared sound and struggled weakly to move. As Cross drew closer, though, he fell still, and his eyes just slid shut, tears sliding from beneath the lids, shoulders shaking.

"Kid, how would you like to be an exorcist?"

At this point, it might well be the only thing he  _could_ be.


End file.
